


Heaven is Your Own Creation

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, honest!, is this a happy ending?, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the End.<br/>The compound is overrun. </p><p>What would Dean's heaven be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven is Your Own Creation

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read if you dislike the idea of Cas and Dean dying in real life. Although the real life is Endverse - only not. Because...I just had an idea in my head okay!
> 
> Please don't hate me.

“Dean Winchester is dead.” The sudden appearance of the angel didn’t surprise him. “Killed by Croats ten minutes ago.”

Castiel merely paused as he was reloading the clip of his rifle. His jaw flexed.

“Did you hear what I said, Castiel?” Gabriel touched Castiel on the shoulder.

“Yes.” The response was flat, as he continued his methodical task.

“Don’t you care, man?” Gabriel was flummoxed.

“Do not take my lack of response for lack of caring, Gabriel.” Castiel leaned his brow on the cold metal of the weapon. His bright blue gaze rested on his brother. “Where is he now?”

Gabriel paused, looking aside as though he was listening to something. “Heaven. He is putting up quite the protest.”

“Very well.”

“Want me to give him a message?”

“No.” Castiel took a deep breath in. He came up on his knees and peered out. The compound was over run. They had lost. Dean was gone. Sam was gone. He was human without a thing left to stay here for. But he would go down fighting. “Get out of here, Gabe.”

“Castiel…” Gabe’s voice was troubled.

“I will see you soon.”

 

The bunker’s lights flickered.

Dean muttered in annoyance, turning his face into his pillow. The bedsheets dragged across his back and the chill air prickled his bare skin. He fumbled for the edge of the fabric and tugged. But they didn’t shift.

He lifted up onto his elbows to figure the problem.

It was in the form of his angel.

Castiel was sprawled on his back, fast asleep, his face turned toward him. Dean smiled slowly. With one fingertip he traced the sharp ridge of Castiel’s nose, slid the curve of his lips, which parted under his touch. Tested the rough texture of the skin of his unshaved cheek and throat.

“If you keep going,” Castiel muttered in a gravelly voice, though his eyes didn’t open. “You are going to have to finish what you started.”

Dean’s hand splayed over his lean ribcage, solid muscle with barely an ounce of fat, and slanted his mouth over Castiel’s. After several long breathless moments, they broke apart.

“You took your time,” Dean protested.

Castiel traced the arch of Dean’s jaw, his blue eyes slumberous. “I had some red tape to cut through. They wanted me to have my old job back.”

“What...did you tell them?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“To go to hell.”

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it again. Rose his brows. “You told Hannah to go to hell?”

“Seemed like the thing to do.” Castiel reached up and soothed the lines on Dean’s brow. “You have had a terrible influence on me.”

“I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

 

 


End file.
